Funeral Crashers
by IAmMeAndNoOneElse
Summary: Randy Orton gets roped into going to a funeral for a kid he doesn't even remember, and of course, chaos ensues. Orton, Batista, Melina, Jericho, Morrison, Beth Phoenix, Kennedy, Edge.


Disclaimer - I own nothing but the few characters you don't recognize, and those are pretty much just randomly invented names anyway.

Wow. I really haven't been writing much lately. Sorry to anyone who might actually care. Well, hope you enjoy this one!

Oneshot #7

Funeral Crashers

Randy Orton let out a heavy sigh. It had been one hell of a long day, no thanks to the fact that he had been sitting in the same spot from morning 'til evening meeting countless WWE fans and signing autographs for them. He was actually supposed to be done right about now, but John Cena had told them to hold the doors open until every last fan waiting to meet the superstars had been given entry.

Damn that suck up.

Randy began repeatedly slamming his head against the table.

"H-hi Randy…" A shy voice suddenly spoke up.

Never ceasing his head banging, Randy grunted, "Hello."

"W-why are you doing that? Did I do something wrong?"

Randy stopped abruptly and forced a smile as he looked up into the eyes of the little girl before him. "No, sweetheart." He told her in a voice that was sickeningly sweet. "I just have a… problem is all. Nothing against you. So would you like an autograph?"

She ignored the question. "I can leave if it'll help your problem go away…"

He chuckled, smiling genuinely now. "No, no, don't be doing that, hun. Hey, what's your name?"

"Mindy." She spoke shyly.

"Mindy. What a pretty name you have! Tell you what, how about you hand me that?" He told her, indicating the picture of him she was holding.

She did, and he signed it, 'To Cindy, my special little girl. Much love, Randy 'RKO' Orton.'

She smiled, but then looked back up at him curiously. "But, that's not my name…"

His eyes widened. Crap. "Oh, sorry sweetie. I'm just really tired, that's all. I'll fix that right up. What was your name again?"

"But… you said it was pretty… Why did you forget it?"

"I… Uh… Just…"

The girl's mother rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Come on, honey. We can fix that later…"

The woman gave Randy what could only be described as a death glare before she left, and the Legend Killer resumed bouncing his head off the table.

"Smooth move there, Orton." A deep voice spoke, and Randy looked up to see The Animal, Dave Batista, standing there.

"Oh, shut the hell up, man. I've had one hell of a long day, and I don't need you harassing me and making it worse."

"Calm down Randy, it's alright." A female voice soothed. Randy looked to see that Melina was now standing next to Dave. "You were just trying to make her happy and you messed up. Nothing to worry about."

Randy sighed. "Yeah, but her mother was scary."

Melina laughed slightly. "Relax. You can't make everybody happy, and besides, you're not nearly as bad as _some _people…" She rolled her eyes, nodding her head to the right.

Right then, a man about 15 feet to the right of Melina spoke to the person before him; "Look, I don't care what your name is and I don't want to hear your life story. I'm far too perfect for that. I would give you my autograph, but that would require myself to hold onto a pen or marker in order to do it, and this might cause some of my perfectness to be channeled through onto whatever I was signing, and we can't allow that to happen, can we? So, basically what I'm saying is that you've basked in my glory for far too long already, so go back to your imperfect lives so that others may have a chance to bathe in my amazingly awesome aura and enrich their no doubt mediocre lives."

Randy blinked. "Thanks Melina, you're right. Morrison is hell of a lot worse than I am…"

"What? Johnny? No, I was talking about Y2Gay."

10 feet past Morrison, Chris Jericho spoke up as if on cue. "Hell no I will not pose for a picture with your daughter!! I'd sooner commit hari-kari, which, in case you didn't know, is a mistaken form of the term hara-kiri, and would involve disemboweling myself in a Japanese ritualistic manner! That's right, I said it! The King of Bling Bling would rather die painfully than take a picture with your assclown of a daughter. So, kindly SHUT… THE HELL… UP and go die in a fire so that Y…2…J can get out of here and get his beauty sleep, BABAYYY!!"

Randy blinked again, then clicked his tongue and smiled. "Just when I thought nobody could be worse than me, I saw Morrison. Then when I thought it didn't get worse than him, my eyes were opened to the being that is Chris Jericho. In short, I am mocking them by going on a miniature rant of my own, and really just want to say 'thank you Melina.'"

Batista and Melina laughed, and Randy smiled. "So, any chance we're getting out of here anytime soon?"

Batista craned his neck to get a better view of the crowd before them. "Looks like the crowd's getting smaller. Hopefully it won't be much longer."

Randy nodded, and got back to signing autographs.

--

It was pitch black outside, and the last few people were just finishing up. Randy thought he was done for the night, but he was wrong. A final woman approached him, a smile on her face. "Randy Orton, right?"

He raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure who he was? Now that was strange. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

She chuckled slightly, but then her smile disappeared. "My name is Tammy Woodrow. I'm sure you remember my son, Arthur? He was an enormous fan, and when he met you last April, he said that you two really bonded."

Randy had no clue what she was on about. He didn't remember any Arthur Woodrow, but that wasn't a surprise. He scarcely remembered fans. He was about to apologize, but remembered the little girl's face, and decided at the last minute that he had already disappointed enough people today. "Oh, right. Arthur. Yeah, I remember."

The woman smiled. "Yes… Well, I'm afraid that Arthur was in a horrible accident this past weekend… and… he passed on…"

"Oh, God, that's horrible. I'm… So sorry." Randy replied.

The woman nodded. "Look, I know it's a lot to ask… But you were his favorite wrestler. Would… Would you mind attending his funeral tomorrow night?"

Randy's eyes widened. Tomorrow was his first day off in a long time. He needed an excuse, and fast. "I… uh… actually-"

She cut him off. "I know it would've meant the world to him, knowing that his hero came to his funeral. My whole family would be incredibly grateful."

Randy's mouth hung open for a moment as he struggled for words, then, finally, "Alright. I'll be there. Just, uh, give me the information."

The woman was positively beaming. "Oh, thank you so much!! You are a great man, Randy Orton, I can see why my son loved you so much! Everything you need to know is on this flyer. I can't thank you enough."

Randy forced a very fake smile and nodded. "Good night."

"Good night, and… thanks again."

With that, the woman began walking away, leaving Randy standing there wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into. He heard a snicker from behind him.

"Well Mr. Legend Killer, I'd say you just got roped into a bore-fest tomorrow night." Came the voice of The Animal.

"And on our day off… Rough. It's nice that you didn't turn her down, Randy, but we all need personal days every so often…" Melina's voice added.

Randy ran his tongue around his mouth, anger welling up inside. He didn't even glance at Dave or Melina, just looked down at the ground. It was then that an idea came to his head, and he looked back in front of him.

"Hey, miss… uh…" He looked at the flyer, finding the woman's name, "Woodrow! Wait a minute!"

The woman turned around, looking at him. "Yes?"

"Your son, didn't, by chance, ever mention liking Batista or Melina, did he?"

Randy's face twisted into a sick smirk as the eyes of the people behind him widened.

--

"I _will _be killing you one day, Randy. I hope you know that." Dave Batista growled, adjusting the tie on his suit.

"Ah, shut your pie-hole, Davey-boy."

Batista trembled with rage. "I don't even understand why you dragged us into this…"

Randy smirked. "You, my friend, were being an ass. Melina just got caught in the crossfire I guess. _I_ don't even know why I took her down. Sorry babe."

Melina shrugged. "I guess it's worth it if it would have made him happy…"

Batista looked at her. "That last part is exactly my point! _Would have _made him happy!! The kid'll never even know we were here!!"

"Hey, you're the one who said you'd come. I just got you the invite." Randy mocked.

Dave just glared at him.

"WHAT!? No VIP lounge!? I am offended!!" A voice suddenly called out. One might have thought of MVP at that moment, but shockingly, they would have been wrong. Yes, in fact, there _was_ more than one person arrogant enough to ask about a VIP lounge at a _funeral._

Randy smirked once more. Peeved at the fact that he had been dragged into attending the funeral, Batista, like Randy, had decided to take someone down with him. That unlucky person was John Morrison.

"Sir, with all-do respect, this is a funeral! Of course there's no VIP lounge!!"

"Well The Shaman of Sexy is here, so there should be!!"

"Oh, shut up, assclown." A third voice interrupted, speaking unclearly through a large bite of food.

No one really knew why Jericho was there.

Randy raised an eyebrow. "You didn't, by chance, screw Y2Jackass over as well as Morrison, did you?"

Dave shook his head. "Nope. And I'm pretty sure Morrison didn't do it either. He high-tailed it out of there the second that woman was gone, and him and Jericho aren't even staying at the same hotel."

"Wait, why did they come anyway?" Melina asked. "They seem like the type to just shoot Mrs. Woodrow down in flames rather than actually be nice and accept…"

"Well I told little Johnny I'd mess up his pretty little face if he didn't come, but I have know idea about Jericho…" Batisa replied.

"He's just here for the food, like me." A new person stated through a bite of whatever he was eating as he pushed past their little group.

The three just stood there dumbfounded for moment, before Randy finally broke the silence. "How the hell did Edge even know there was a funeral to attend?"

"Anywhere there's free food, he won't be far behind…" Melina answered as they watched The Rated-R Superstar rudely shoving people aside as he made his way to the second of the banquet tables.

"So… Morrison is here because you threatened him, and Edge and Jericho are just here for free food? Wow." Randy muttered.

"I am not here because this… _blundering buffoon_ threatened me; I do not fear the taunts of jacked up nimrods with an abundance of muscle and a diminutive supply of brain cells. I am simply here because Linda McMahon heard me talking about how some crazy woman actually had the gall to ask _me _to a funeral for her stupid son, and, being the insane old hag that she is, McMahon insisted that a large group of us WWE employees attend this funeral in a pathetic attempt to show that we at the WWE actually care, which we don't, and she stated that if anyone she selected to attend fought her on the matter, she would immediately terminate his or her contract. Unfortunately, I was selected. But, I digress, I mean to say that I am only here because I would be fired if I weren't, and that you, Dave Batista, are completely pathetic and un-intimidating to me in every way."

Randy, Dave, and Melina watched as John Morrison walked away, having made his point.

"Ok, so, correction, Edge and Jericho are here for food, and Morrison's here because Linda made him come." Randy corrected.

Batista was fuming. "Note to self, add John Morrison to my 'people to kill' list…"

--

_Later in the evening…_

Many more superstars and divas had arrived at the funeral, and Randy Orton was surveying the scene with a raised eyebrow.

This was a funeral. It was supposed to be a sad time, yet the only ones who actually seemed to be grieving were a few of Arthur's immediate family members. Most other people, save for the WWE employees, of course, seemed more star-struck than sad.

"I bet she regrets inviting us now, huh?" Dave Batista asked with a smirk as he stepped up to Randy's side, watching everyone and sipping his drink.

"Tell me about it…" The Legend Killer replied. "I don't reckon I've ever been to a funeral where guests were asking other guests for autographs before…"

Dave chuckled.

"Excuse me, excuse me, can I get everyone's attention please?" A voice asked over a microphone, and everyone looked to the front of the room, where Mrs. Woodrow was standing.

"No. I'm eating."

Now, all eyes went to The Rated-R Superstar, who was taking a bite out of a sandwich. His eyes shifted around at everyone staring at him. "What?"

--

"Well, now I think I can safely say I've seen just about everything…" Melina Perez muttered.

"Yeah, really. Getting thrown out of a funeral is a new low, even for Edge…" Randy replied.

Mrs. Woodrow tried once again to get everyone's attention, and this time, no one argued aloud, at least. "Our priest, Reverend Mitchell, will now be delivering Arthur's passing sermon. Please take your seats. Thank you in advance, Reverend."

The reverend, a short, plump man wearing glasses, stepped up to the podium in front of the coffin and began to speak. About ten minutes into the speech, there was a very loud and obnoxious disturbance, courtesy of a very loud and obnoxious man.

"KENNNNNNEDDDDDYYYY!!"

Randy pursed his lips. "Looks like we're going to see two people get kicked out of the same funeral…"

--

After the speech was over, the reverend stepped down, and much to Randy's horror, Mrs. Woodrow called Randy Orton to the podium and asked him to speak a few words about his 'fallen friend.'

Randy looked around nervously, silently wishing he actually remembered the kid he was supposed to be talking about. "Well, uh, he was a great kid, and, uh, I hope he is at peace now, and, uh, you know… Ah, to hell with it. Look people, I'm really sorry, but I have no idea who this kid was. I guess I met him at one point, but I honestly don't remember him. We wrestlers meet so many different people each day, it's just impossible to remember everyone, you know? Last night, I gave a little girl an autograph claiming she was special. I made it out to Cindy, but her name, which she had told me just a minute before, was actually Mindy. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on her face, so when this woman asked me if I remembered her son, I didn't want to disappoint anyone else, so I lied and said I did. Then I got roped into coming to this funeral for a kid I don't even remember and asked to do a speech about that very kid. So I'm sorry, and I'm sure he was a great kid, but I have no idea who he was. Call me an ass if you want, but I was just trying to make people happy. I'm very sorry for your loss." Randy raised his drinking glass. "A toast to Andrew."

He might just have saved himself in the end there if he had toasted _Arthur _rather than the non-existent _Andrew_.

--

"So this is what it's like to be thrown out of a funeral… Huh." Randy muttered. He and the others who had suffered the same fate were sitting by the wall outside.

"Yep." Edge replied. "It sucks. I could have eaten like, five more sandwiches."

"KENNEDY!!" The third man threw in.

"Arthur, damnit, _Arthur_!! How could I forget the poor kid's name!?"

"I wish I'd grabbed one of those cupcakes…"

"KENNEDY!!"

"I forgot the freakin' name… I'm such an idiot…"

"I passed on free cupcakes!! I'M SUCH AN IDIOT!!"

"KENNEDY!!"

--

"So, you want to go catch a movie or something?"

Randy Orton, who was still sitting outside with a pair of weirdoes, looked up at his friend. "Funeral's over?"

Dave shook his head. "Nah. I got thrown out."

Randy smiled slightly. "For what?"

Dave looked off into space, flashing back…

"_I'LL KILL YOU!! I'LL KILL YOU!!" Dave was screaming as he chased the self-proclaimed Shaman of Sexy all around the funeral._

_Morrison stopped abruptly, dropping down and tripping Dave up so he fell over the podium. As the guests looked on, the man formerly known as Johnny Nitro climbed up onto the coffin (which was closed, luckily) and attempted a Corkscrew Moonsault off of it._

_The moonsault was perfect, but a combination of Dave moving out of the way and Morrison overshooting the move caused the Guru of Greatness to miss his target completely and crash through a table instead, knocking him out cold._

"_GET OUT!! GET OUT!! GET OUT BEFORE I CALL THE COPS!!" Mrs. Woodrow screamed at Dave, not even bothering with the 'I'm going to have to ask you to leave' crap._

"_YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!!" Another voice suddenly screamed, and Chris Jericho dove out a fancy window, sending glass shards flying everywhere._

_Melina frowned. "__He__ wasn't even the one being yelled at for once…"_

"_Somehow, I don't think Mr. Jericho understands that… He's so used to being the culprit, you know, I think he just automatically assumes…" Beth Phoenix stated as she walked up beside her friend._

_On his way out, Dave Batista chuckled as he watched a group of people lift up the limp form of John Morrison, walk over to the space where a window used to be (before a certain Ayatollah of Rock N' Rollah came through), and throw him out into a dumpster._

_End flashback…_

Batista looked back at Randy as he snapped back to reality. "Ah, nothing important. So, movie?"

Randy shrugged, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. "Sure. I've been wanting to see that new _Indiana Jones_ movie."

Dave nodded. "Cool."

And so, the two friends headed off to find a movie theater. Neither of them had ever intended to crash a funeral at any point during their lives, but hey, at least everyone present at said funeral would walk away with a new experience under their belt.

Well, except Arthur.


End file.
